


October Fic Prompts

by CallMeHopeless (IAmNotBread)



Category: Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Halloween AU, Werewolf, Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotBread/pseuds/CallMeHopeless
Summary: A collection of prompts from my October prompt list! Feel free to request on my Tumblr at CallMeHopeless!





	October Fic Prompts

The growl that escapes Adam’s lips takes him by surprise: body trembling with need as he bites down on his pillow, breath catching in his lungs like wildfire. Your scent is everywhere; drenching the air in a way that makes his whole body cry out. It’s ridiculous, really - you’re not  _his._

_Not yet._

His hand aches as he shivers, pumping his cock - nearly raw from this constant desperation. He’s got to rehearse, sometime; he knows he does. Opening night is soon enough, closing in on him, strangling this needy whine that presses at his lips.

It’s his own fault; he knows it. Stuck in New York, suppressing his shifts and caging himself up in this little apartment. Werewolves aren’t  _supposed_ to live this way - but he’s not one for playing by the rules, is he? He never has been.

“Oh  _fuck”_ he hisses through clenched teeth, feeling his peak approach yet again. Your apartment is a few doors down, his sensitive hearing picking up the sound of your nails on the coffee table. You’ve intoxicated him, and he’s utterly drunk on it.

He shouldn’t have kissed you last night - not so close to this rut. But there you’d been, balanced on his sofa as you flipped through his script, huffing a little laugh; and his body had acted, lead by something primal. He feels his body twist, knot growing at the base of his cock. Fuck, is he seriously knotting while jacking off? This  _doesn’t_ happen. He moans, his hands drifting down to prod at it, the image of your wandering fingertips on the forefront of his mind.

As he cries out, he feels his body shiver: edging him closer to shifting, his eyes sharpening, heart thrumming at his ears. Cum spills out onto his stomach, drenching his sheets, forcing a desperate cry from his lips. He can feel his fingernails pulse with the pain of a forced shift, and he has to use all of his concentration to keep himself here, now: human. He bites his lip with a groan, sharp teeth digging into his tongue and eliciting a little blood.

Laying there, your scent drenching his nostrils, knot still forcing cum on his stomach as his eyes shift from yellow to brown and back again: he knows he’s screwed. 

He’s so fucking screwed.


End file.
